bacchanal in blood
arteries are red
veins are blue
a little girl stumbles
into a cold dark wood
blood trails at her feet
and her cloak is in shreds.
a bold wolf hungers nearby
her footsteps music to his ears
Into her path, steps a woodcutter
his eyes red with anger
his hands slick with blood
his mouth encased in a wintry snarl
Her eyes widen in fear
water drops blur her lashes
blinding her to his axe
blinding her to its direction
a howl stops death
a biting scream fills the air
the woodcutter is dead
his blood coats the forest
arteries are red
veins are blue
a little girl is frightened
out of a cold dark wood
***